


Yesterday was my birthday, and I made a wish.

by mirthfulwoman



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirthfulwoman/pseuds/mirthfulwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wednesdays are the one day a week Donna can get on her own. Her mother is with the Wednesday Girls and Gramps is playing poker. Wednesday nights Donna goes up the hill and talks to the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For my first foray in to actual Doctor Who fanfic, I have waded into the waters of a fix it fic for Donna. It is unashamedly shippy. Be warned. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think.

It’s been 6 months since she woke up at her mother’s home without any memory of getting there. With no memory of moving there. With no memory of the last two years of her life. She feels like she’s been on autopilot since then. 

Donna walks up the hill. Where every night her Gramps brings out his telescope and looks at the sky. She pulls the tarp from the shed, spreading it on the ground, and sitting down. She wraps the blanket around herself and looks at the stars. She’s felt a pull to be near them. Like a part of her is up there. But for the last six months, her family hasn't let her up the hill. They haven’t let her think about the missing years. They want her to move on, to pretend that missing those years are unimportant. But on Wednesdays she visits the stars and talks to them like there’s someone out there listening.

“Yesterday was my birthday, and I made a wish.”

She doesn't hear the wheezing groan, but there’s a slight breeze that kicks up and her hair blocks her view of the stars. Donna closes her eyes and turns into the breeze. When she opens her eyes again, she’s not surprised to see a blue box. Yet, she’s certain she should be. There’s an itch in her mind that tells her this should be familiar and also dangerous. She wants to run, but towards the box or away, she doesn't quite know. A man steps out, looking around, at everything except Donna. As though he can’t see her.

There’s something about him. Familiar and unfamiliar. She thinks that ash falling from the sky and obscuring is face would not be out of place. Her heart rate increases as she considers him. Ghosts of ropes around her wrists. All of a sudden she feels hot all over, as if surrounded by fire. Tears fall down her face and her throat feels as though she’s been yelling for hours and choked with smoke. She has no idea what’s going on, but she doesn't question it. A giggle bursts up out of her and whispers across the hill.

“Spartacus,” Donna breathes out in a giggle.

It’s as though the sound from her breaks a spell and the man’s face immediately looks her way. A sharp intake of breath is the only indication he sees her. They both just look at each other for a moment before he breaks the silence.

“And so am I,” he responds back.

He takes a step towards her, Donna stills and watches him. Without conscience thought, she takes note of the location of his hands. Tracking their movements. He reaches her spot in a few strides and kneels down in front of her. The sound of his knees on the tarp crackles loudly in the silence of the night. One arm reaches towards her, and Donna straightens her back. His hand stops inches from her, hesitant to move closer for fear of proving the vision his imagination. Donna wraps the blanket tighter.

“I think I wished for you.”

“I always wish for you,” he replies. 

Donna sees the way his fingers twitch, as though he’s anxious to prove her solidity, her realness, her existence. He’s so close to her, she can see every line on his face, and wonders when he got the extra crinkle by his eyes. As she brings a hand to his face, she sees him close his eyes and lean into her touch. Tears fall harder down her face when she sees them pool in his. He looks sadder than she remembers, but she doesn't know why that thought passes her.

She pulls away and his frown deepens. Reaching into the bag by her side, she pulls out a bottle and a bag of nuts.

“I always carry these around with me. I've never known why. But I think I finally do.”

Opening the bottle, Donna takes a hefty swallow then pours the rest over her head, laughing as she does. She then takes a handful of the nuts and shoves them in her mouth, swallowing them too. A smile lighting her face for the first time since before she woke up six months ago, she turns to the man.

“Ginger beer, check. Protein, salt, check and check. I just need a shock.”

Without missing a beat, the man pulls her face to him and kisses her. Donna’s hands finds his lapels, pulling him closer. A minute later they pull back and she exhales a cloud of gold mist.

“Must to that more often. And I don’t mean the detox.”

The man just continues to look at her, his hands holding hers.

“How?” he manages to choke out.

“You couldn't hide it all behind a mind block. There was always going to be something you missed. Among those, you never considered that my memories of the detox would be grouped with anything other than fear and you. But anchovies and ginger beer. Always hated them. Always. And combined? Yuck. It went to a weird subset of disgusting things to never think on again. Except that’s never true is it? It’s always there. There was just enough of a memory left, and enough of the metacrisis left to come up with a fix. Only I didn't know that’s what it was. But it is. And with that kiss, I not only got the shock needed to kick start it, but the genetic material transfer necessary to complete the transformation.”

“Transformation into…”

“Full blown Time Lady!”

They both smile at each other. Huge smiles that neither has had in years. Through unspoken acknowledgement, they stand and he takes his coat off and wraps it around her shoulders. The thought crosses her mind that this coat would, in fact, fit a rat. She thinks she’ll miss the sticky uppy hair and the pinstripes, but she knows that this grey haired Doctor isn't going to settle for “just mates”.


	2. Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out I did write a second chapter to this. I hope it doesn't disappoint. :)

The moment they step inside the TARDIS, Donna stops.

“This, this is wrong,” she says while stepping backwards out of the Doctor’s grasp and toward the doors. Before can turn, the doors shut and refuse to budge, despite her pounding.

The Doctor puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Donna, love, tell me what’s wrong?”

“This. The TARDIS. She’s wrong.”

“She’s not wrong, love, we’ve just redecorated. I guess you don’t like it,” he tries to bring some levity to the words, but he knows it won’t work.

She does the only thing she can think to do, turn and bury her face in the Doctor’s chest, releasing her tears in wracking sobs.

The Doctor wraps his arms around her, holding her close, offering comfort for he knows not what.

“Shh, love. It’s alright. It’s over. I’m here. The Old Girl is here. She missed you. Can you hear those chimes? That’s her saying she’s so happy to see you again.” The Doctor keeps whispering nonsense in her ear.

“Everything’s different,” she chokes out.

“Yes. But is different bad?”

“I don’t know. I just…I expected that you’d be different, but not the TARDIS. I thought she was a constant.”

“Well, she is, love.”

“But she’s not. And if I’m wrong about that, what else am I wrong about?” It’s a loaded question and they both know it.

The Doctor hugs her closer, afraid she’ll actually ask to leave.

“Come on to the library, Donna. We can talk over everything there.”

She nodded her head against her his chest before stepping back and wiping her eyes.

“That’s it, love,” he takes her hand, leading her up the stairs and out of the control room.

Donna walks slower than the Doctor would like. Her slow pace causes mild panic every time it leads to a slight pull on his hand, afraid this is the moment it’s too much and she bolts. They walk into the library and Donna lets out a sigh.

“It’s the same,” she says.

“Not everything changed,” the Doctor replies as he nudges her to a hidden nook between 34th Century Fiction and (unread) flight manuals.

The Doctor stops and lets Donna walk ahead of him when the sofa comes into view. As she approaches the sofa, she spots another familiar sight. A worn copy of _Persuasion,_ straddling the arm of the sofa at page 153. Right where she left it. Donna can’t find the words. He hasn’t changed a thing. Everything is exactly as it was the last time she was here. Their half-finished tea service. His tie on the armchair from when he decided that it was a new day and that tie needed retiring. The pillows piled up from where she placed them to fall asleep on while the Doctor continued to read. Their nook. She knows she should make a joke about the Doctor’s housekeeping. Instead, she covers her mouth with her hand and tears well up her eyes. She’s unable to look away from the book.

“I can listen no long in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach,” the Doctor speaks from behind her. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.”

He steps forward and claps her hand in his. Donna looks at their joined hands, so he only sees the top of her head. He decides that’s good. He can’t quite meet her eyes yet.

“I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight hundred years ago.”

At that deviation, Donna’s head shoots up. Her eyes meet his and she now knows for certain he is no longer merely quoting her favorite book.

“I have loved none but you.” He stops because he is afraid of her reaction.

Donna tries to get a word out, a sound, anything, but they all remain caught in her throat. He looks so terrified of rejection, it gives her the push needed to get her voice box working again.

“I love you too, you Outer Space Dunce.”

The Doctor leans in and kisses her. Pulling back, her name drifts from his lips in whisper.

“Donna, please tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“Oh, Spaceman, what happened to you?” She pulls him into a hug. He grips her back tighter. Thank goodness for the respiratory bypass. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He squeezes her once more before releasing her enough to look into her eyes.

“Donna Noble, I love you.” The next words that leave his mouth cause huge smiles to break out across both their faces.

“Forever, Spaceman. Let’s start the honeymoon right here. In our nook.”


End file.
